


give in

by necro



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 04:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9862379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necro/pseuds/necro
Summary: say "thank you"





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this with the mindset that this takes place in the same universe as my other fic, [control](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9043199), but you don't need to read that to read this one.
> 
> (i'll post something with actual plot soon i promise)
> 
> spoilers, in case you're not into that thing, slash is the sub here.

Sound check ends the way it started: disappointing and annoying. Guitars weren't tuned properly, mic stands fell over without warning, Steven somehow misplaced a drum and spent a few minutes with some of the crew running around backstage to find it. When they get through a handful of songs without something interrupting them, Axl counts it as a win. The band slowly migrates off stage after a song ends, Duff sitting on a chair while tuning his bass, Steven trails alongside Izzy as the man walks backstage. Axl talks to one of the crew who dismisses his concerns and walks away, tech guys surrounding the poor man as they race to locate replacements for the equipment.

 

Axl frowns and nods acknowledgement at Duff, who waves at him from his chair, and disappears backstage as well. He finds what must be a resting area after walking down a long stretch of hallway. It’s empty except for an end table and a fake plant settled in the center, a water bottle placed beside it, and a single chair pushed against the wall with cardboard boxes stacked on top of it. Axl grabs the plastic bottle and leans against the wall. Sound check wasn't as disastrous as it could have been, Axl supposes. What matters is that they managed to get through it without much incident, and all that’s left to do now is to get ready for the show tonight.

 

This train of thought doesn’t stop Axl from feeling irritated though. The mistakes and inconsistencies kept piling up, and he’s preparing himself for the worst case scenario where this happens in front of thousands of people. He sighs, tries to relax the tension in his shoulders, and drinks out of the water bottle. The water is the wrong side of lukewarm and Axl finds himself wondering what else could go wrong today.

 

He knows people expect a fucking good show, knows they spend a large amount of money to be there, knows some people travel for hours just to hear them perform. All Axl can do is his best, but his best doesn’t reflect the band’s best – if anyone slacks off then everyone’s responsible. Axl considers pushing the guys back on stage to do it over, just to prove to himself they can do better.

 

Axl sighs and rubs his hands over his face. His palms are rough but his face is covered with dry sweat, he feels gross. There’s energy buzzing in his arms and legs yet he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. The various crew members that flood the hallway in all directions fade to white noise as Axl’s thoughts spiral. A shower would be ideal, except the show starts in a few hours and finding someone who isn’t knee deep in their own shit who could take him to the hotel and back here would be close to impossible. Not to mention traffic, the paparazzi, the reporters –

 

“You okay, Ax?”

 

Axl looks up, unaware he was sitting down. He untangles his fingers from his hair and glances up to find Slash standing in front of him. Despite the shades resting on his face Axl can see his concern.

 

He can’t stop the dismissive noise that comes out of his mouth. “Yeah.”

 

Slash doesn’t look convinced. When he turns around, Axl scans the room for his water bottle. He just had it, he doesn't understand how he already lost it. Looking around, Axl notices that he and Slash are almost completely secluded from wandering eyes. A few employees emerge from a room down the hall, chatting amongst themselves. They walk past, paying the two men no mind, and Axl listens as their voices grow quieter until he can't hear them anymore. Before Axl can hoist himself up to find another drink, Slash offers him a hand. Axl looks at it unexpectedly, looks up at Slash.

 

“What?”

 

Slash huffs and grabs at Axl’s arm. He’s surprised, lets Slash help him up. Slash doesn’t let go and maneuvers them both down the hallway, turning corners, weaving around and between groups of people until the crowds disperse before disappearing completely. Slash’s grip on Axl is loose and he fleetingly considers catching Slash’s hand in his. Before he can act on it Slash turns another corner to a dead end hallway. There’s a layer of dust on the broken furniture that lines the wall to his right, and Axl gets the impression that this side of the building is more or less abandoned. They're further down the hall when Slash stops without warning and opens a door beside them, nudging Axl inside.

 

The room looks like the bands own backstage room, just significantly smaller. There’s misshapen furniture and defunct equipment that’s pushed against the wall. Amps, cords, stands, and a few guitars with broken necks that are missing some strings are scattered in the room, along with chairs, tables, and half of a couch which is unevenly supported by an amp. Two mirrors fill the wall parallel to the door with a counter attached. One of them is shattered, and Axl thinks he can spot leftover glass on the floor. Axl guesses the distance from the main stage turned this room into more of a storage area for shit nobody knew what to do with.

 

The size of the room makes Axl feel suffocated. He’s reminded of a scene in a horror movie and inspects the room to find a hiding place. Slash brushes past him and Axl hides his flinch by stepping aside. Slash kicks a few cords out of his way as he shuffles towards the counter. He takes off his shades and folds them, neatly placing them on the counter. Slash turns and Axl is caught by dark, familiar eyes.

 

“So,” Slash says, breaking the silence. “What do you want?”

 

Axl furrows his brows, his forgotten irritation swelling. “What?” Slash is the one who dragged him to this cramped hole in the wall. If anything, Axl should be asking him what  _he_  wants.

 

Slash flounders, “I mean, do you wanna talk about your feelings or,” he licks his lips, regaining Axl’s full attention, “do something else?”

 

It takes a second for the weight and meaning of Slash’s words to process in his mind, and then Axl is pulling him in.

 

The kiss is short and hungry, Axl licking into his mouth as he pushes Slash back until his thighs meet the counter. Axl slides a hand appreciatively under his shirt, warm, toned skin under his palm as Slash rests his hands on Axl’s hips. They move to his back, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss before pushing his chest. Axl pulls back and stares openly as Slash sinks to the floor, tugging his pants and boxers down in a single fluid motion. Axl spares a glance at the counter before bracing his hands there.

 

Slash licks at his cock, bringing his attention back to the sight below. He watches helplessly as Slash abruptly rests on his knees and sucks the head of Axl’s dick in his mouth. The hot, wet sensation sends sparks up Axl’s spine and he groans, pushes Slash’s hair back. He’s mesmerized as Slash takes more of him in his mouth. One of Slash’s hands reaches to fondle Axl’s balls, another at the base of his shaft. The muscle in Axl’s thigh jumps involuntarily and his eyes close as he moans. Axl combs his fingers through Slash's hair and is immediately overwhelmed as he feels Slash's head bob on his cock, taking him deeper in his mouth.

 

Axl feels him moan, the low, thrumming vibration a stark contrast from the intense heat of Slash’s mouth. Axl shudders in response, fingers searching for purchase against the surface of the counter and in Slash’s hair. Slash moans again, tongue working around him desperately, causing Axl’s hips to twitch upward. Axl sucks air between his teeth and looks down in a fit of bravery. His stomach does flips as he finds Slash looking at him intently like he’s waiting for direction. The hand on Axl’s dick is limp while Slash’s other hand moved to his thigh, fingers curled tight there.

 

Their eyes stay locked as Slash takes Axl deeper and Axl can’t help the airy groan that forces itself out of his mouth, his head lolling back. His thoughts are racing, struggling to recount their set list for tonight, if Slash is doing a lot vocals or not, as Slash swallows around him. Axl’s body jerks reflexively and he gasps. His grip on Slash’s hair tightens, holding him there before quickly releasing. Slash swallows again, curling his tongue, and Axl’s hips make an aborted attempt to thrust forward.

 

Axl looks down, hopes his eyes broadcast his question as he tries to translate Slash’s expression into either a  _yes_  or  _no_. At the hungry, fixed gaze of Slash’s eyes, Axl swallows and tentatively thrusts, shallow and testing, into Slash’s mouth. He sees Slash’s eyes turn hazy before falling shut, jaw slack. Slash waits, pliant with Axl’s hand in his hair holding him up. Axl chews on his lip to distract himself from the sight, can’t bring himself look away as he thrusts into Slash’s mouth again. Slash doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch when Axl snaps his hips hard to gauge his reaction.

 

Met with little to no resistance, Axl fists Slash’s hair and fucks his throat with abandon. His head is thrown back, his jaw is clenched, eyes screwed shut as his cock hits the back of Slash’s throat over and over. The grip he has on the counter is slipping, palm sweaty while his fingers struggle for leverage. Axl falters for half a second before moving the hand to rest behind Slash’s skull. The sudden touch elicits a moan from the man below, slamming Axl into alertness.

 

He’s embarrassingly close, Axl realizes belatedly. He can feel his inevitable climax on his heels and cries out weakly, the only warning Slash gets before Axl’s hips still. His throat clicks and his body shakes as he cums down Slash’s throat, fingers tight in his hair. When the pleasure is replaced with hypersensitivity that shoots through Axl’s nerves, he rears back. Axl blinks down at Slash, a guttural moan escaping him as he catches the head of his cock sliding out of Slash’s mouth. When he closes his eyes, the moment loops in his mind. Axl’s breathing sounds loud in his ears, his head swirling as he takes deeper breaths to relax the hammering in his chest. He releases the hold on Slash’s hair a second later, sends what he hopes is an apologetic, sheepish look in Slash’s direction.

 

Axl frowns a little when he notices that Slash isn’t looking at him. Instead his hand is raised to his mouth with his other hand underneath it. When Axl spots his tongue, realization hits him like a train. Slash caught the cum leaking out of his mouth and licked his hand clean. A small noise dies in his throat as Slash lowers his hands, resting at his thighs.

 

Slash’s body is quivering slightly, and he’s still kneeling on the floor. Axl opens his mouth to say something when Slash looks up, apparently remembering where is he, to see Axl’s amazed look. Slash’s eyes flash with recognition before reaching back to lift himself up on the counter with unsteady arms. His hair is all over the place, so unlike the controlled chaos Axl is used to seeing on him. Axl knows he's staring, probably making Slash, whose attentive eyes are mapping Axl’s movements almost cautiously, uncomfortable. Axl blinks and nearly misses the way Slash’s eyes cloud with unrestrained arousal.

 

“Should I…?” Axl asks, gesturing at him vaguely.

 

There’s a beat of silence before Slash blinks, his expression clearing. He shakes his head. “No, no, you gotta sing.”

 

His voice is absolutely trashed. Axl feels a mixture of pride and mortification.

 

“Yeah, but,” Axl tries to hold the eye contact and ignore Slash’s obvious erection in his pants. “I don’t have lube, so we can’t…” Axl gives in and pointedly looks at Slash’s dick.

 

“Oh.” Slash is watching him with peaked awareness, but Axl can tell when Slash drifts somewhere else, his features softening, and when he pulls himself back. “It’s – I can just, it’s okay.”

 

Axl weighs his options as he pulls his pants up. They can’t fuck, Axl can’t suck his dick, and Axl's pretty sure Slash is ten seconds away from passing out, cumming in his pants, or both at the same time. He sighs.

 

“Get up.”

 

Slash opens his mouth to protest, closes it when Axl places a steady hand on his chest and pushes him back until he sits on the counter. Axl licks his lips and allows himself to smirk as Slash’s eyes follow the movement. He kisses him gently, feels Slash’s body sag like he’s let out a deep breath he was holding in. Axl nudges his arms up and makes no effort to stop the smile that grows when Slash wraps his arms around his neck. He snickers, kisses Slash again.

 

His hands ghost under Slash’s shirt, feels his body shiver from pleasure this time. Axl pulls the shirt up and tosses it somewhere behind them. His hands roam on Slash’s skin, his touches sure and assertive. He licks at Slash’s lips, palms trailing up his sides. Slash opens his mouth and hums as Axl’s tongue slides against his own, his arms limp on Axl’s shoulders.

 

Axl kisses the side of his mouth, his jaw, down to the skin above his collarbone. Slash exhales, turns his head to reveal more skin. Axl stays there, mouth distracting him as a hand slowly palms Slash’s cock through his jeans. He groans, shifts his hips, pulls Axl in with the heels of his boots. Axl feels Slash’s legs move to open further when he grunts, annoyed at the restriction of his pants. Axl makes quick work of popping the button open, lips moving to the skin near Slash’s ear.

 

Slash shudders in time with Axl pulling his zipper down. Axl hesitates, uncertain for a second, and is grateful when Slash drops his legs to lift himself up on the counter. He pushes Slash’s pants down, and Slash moans quietly as his aching member is met with open air, his arms trembling. Axl kisses along his jawline, sucks Slash’s lip in his mouth as he pushes Slash’s pants down until they pool at his ankles. Slash groans impatiently as Axl steps back, chuckling quietly. Axl watches, amused as Slash toes off his boots and grabs for him, pulling Axl back in.

 

Legs around him once more, Axl feels Slash’s fingers thread through his hair when they kiss again. Axl can’t stop himself, there’s something increasingly addictive about catching Slash’s lips with his own. He turns his head to kiss him deeper, feels his chest expand when Slash does the same. Axl’s hand travels up Slash’s thigh to his shoulder, thumb brushing against his nipple. The hoarse moan Slash gives is swallowed by his mouth. Axl’s other hand creeps slowly up his thigh, teasing.

 

Slash breaks their kiss, Axl moves to pepper quick kisses on his neck, as he gasps for breath. “Fuck, Axl, please.”

 

His voice is right beside his ear, hot, breathy, low, wrecked –

 

Axl pauses, grinds his teeth together, feels his dick twitch with captured interest.

 

“What do you want?” Axl asks quietly, kissing the side of his mouth.

 

“You.”

 

Axl stills his hand. “Where?”

 

“Everywhere.”

 

Axl closes his eyes, kisses him so he stops talking. If Slash keeps talking he’s going to get hard again, and if he gets hard again Axl knows he won’t settle for his mouth. Later, he bargains with himself.

 

Later is approaching fast as Slash keeps trying to pull him impossibly closer; Axl feels that if any other part of him touches Slash’s skin he’s going to lose it, so he’s doing his best to keep an acceptable distance between them but Slash isn’t having it. He’s making frustrated noises in Axl’s mouth, fingers in his hair pushing Axl’s head closer, legs clamping around Axl’s waist. Axl stays where he is and is thankful for it when he brushes the backs of his fingers along Slash’s dick, feels the precum trickling down his shaft, feels Slash’s cock jump at the touch. He moans heady in his mouth, body torn between chasing the feeling and pulling Axl closer.

 

Axl wraps his fingers around Slash and groans as Slash melts against him, body going lax as Axl jacks him off. Slash is letting his tongue roam his mouth, fingers resting in Axl’s hair. His whole body is still like he thinks moving will disrupt this moment, like it’ll make Axl stop. Axl can feel the muscles in Slash’s legs twitch minutely, and that’s the only indication he gets that Slash is present. Slash chases after Axl’s mouth when he pulls back to breathe, the hand at his shoulder keeping him at bay. Axl’s mind is dizzy from the lack of air and Slash’s reactions.

 

Axl dares to open his eyes and is relieved to find Slash’s eyes closed. This relief doesn’t last long as his eyes trail down Slash’s impressive body, down to Slash’s heavy cock in his hand. He twists his wrist, thumb pushing up against the underside of Slash’s head, and his blood sings as Slash moans, loud, arms rigid around Axl’s neck. He does it again, faster, harder, and bites his tongue when he sees the muscles in Slash’s abdomen spasm. Slash's lips are pressed together, trapping the noises in his mouth, his chin tilted up as tremors ripple across his body. Axl presses open mouthed kisses at his neck, trying to distract himself, and snakes his hand to rest at the base of Slash's skull. He whimpers and Axl feels it on his tongue.

 

“Fuck, Ax, please,” Slash whispers, arms shaking from keeping still. Axl hums against his skin, pulls on his hair, ripping a gasp out of him.

 

The hand on his dick slows, and Axl revels in the needy moan Slash emits. Axl pulls his head back like he’s been burned, feels heat stir below his stomach.

 

“I need to…I can’t,” Axl can't look away.

 

“You wanna cum?” Axl closes his hand around him just a little tighter, watches Slash’s mouth fall open. He nods quickly, gasping sharply as Axl’s fingers move to circle the head of his cock.

 

Axl kisses his jaw. “Wanna hear you,” he says into his ear.

 

“Yes, yes, Axl, fuck.” At his silence and retreating fingers, Slash groans. “Please let me cum, Axl.”

 

Axl hovers over Slash’s mouth, breathes in the noises he makes as his hand works his cock fast. Wet skin against skin echoes in the tiny room they’re in, and Axl is thankful for Slash dragging him back here, for the privacy, for this. Slash’s head moves back, resting against the glass behind him, his back curved and neck exposed. Axl’s other hand touches his chest fervently, his whole body aching to be closer. Axl thumbs the head of Slash’s dick as his palm grazes harshly over his nipple, and Slash tenses as his orgasm overtakes him.

 

Axl rubs him through it, coaxing stripes of cum out of him that land on Slash's chest and stomach. When he slumps back and makes a small sound of protest, Axl carefully eases off of him. Slash’s legs fall clumsily, hands grasping at the edge of the counter without much strength. Axl feels his skin throb as his eyes follow the cum that’s sliding down Slash’s body, and looks at the wet substance in his hand.

 

He wipes Slash’s skin, gathering the liquid on his hand. Slash’s eyes are closed, breathing labored and quiet. Axl rubs the pad of his thumb against his bottom lip to get his attention and feels the dulled arousal at the core of his being alight as Slash lazily opens his eyes. He nods at his hand covered in cum, just to see what Slash will do about it.

 

Axl isn’t surprised when Slash leans forward and holds his wrist in place as he eats the cum out of his hand. Axl’s body shivers at the feel of Slash’s tongue on his palm, watching through half-lidded eyes as Slash swallows down his own semen. He turns his hand in Slash's hold, curls his fingers slightly. Slash doesn't miss a beat, his tongue licking along Axl's fingers. He sucks his index finger in his mouth, and Axl pulls his hand back.

 

Slash catches his wrist again, eyes flickering up at Axl's as he swipes his tongue across his palm once more, slowly. Axl feels challenged, gazes locked, and isn’t sure what to do about it. He takes his hand back and wipes his palm on his pants. Slash's hand falls to the counter, and he looks like he's about to fall asleep. 

 

When Slash doesn’t move, eyes fluttering closed, Axl feels the air get knocked out of him. “Shit, come here.”

 

Axl kisses him, mouth closed, and tugs his arm a little. Slash must remember how to use his limbs then because he rises against Axl and kisses back. Without thinking, Axl licks Slash’s mouth open. At the taste of cum still fresh in Slash’s mouth, Axl pulls back.

 

“Ew,” he says distractedly. He pulls gently at Slash’s arm again. “Why’d you do that?”

 

“Huh?” Slash slurs. He pushes at the counter and nearly falls down, legs unsteady beneath him. Axl wraps his arm around his shoulder, keeping him somewhat balanced as they take a few cautious steps forward.

 

“You, uh.” Axl feels stupid for being embarrassed now, of all times. “Ate the. Y’know. Why?”

 

He feels Slash shrug under his arm. “Nothin’ to wipe it on.”

 

Axl lips quirk, unbelieving. ‘ _Yeah, sure._ ’

 

“Okay.” He says. “Here, sit down there.”

 

Slash lets Axl to position his body on the couch. Axl stands up straight, a wave of responsibility taking ahold of him. He searches for Slash’s shirt among the broken furniture and decides not to look into the feeling too much. He steps around broken wooden pieces that used to hold a chair together, tiny shards of glass that are too small to do any actual harm, and the cords Slash kicked when they first walked in here. It feels like a century ago, like a whole lifetime has passed, and Axl isn't sure how long they’ve actually been in here. He finds Slash’s shirt inside out and pulls the hem through the head hole to correct it. Axl goes to throw it at Slash but, seeing the man slumped back in the couch, he walks back towards him.

 

Axl lightly kicks Slash’s shoes in his direction and grabs at his pants and underwear. Slash is snapped out of whatever trance he was in and looks at his shoes as they tumble to a stop at his feet.

 

“Here’s your stuff,” Axl says, putting the clothes on Slash’s lap. “Get dressed, we should probably head back soon.”

 

Slash nods dimly and goes through the motions of putting on his shirt. Axl tries to catch his eyes, feels apprehensive at his silence. When Slash stands, he locks unfocused eyes with Axl’s.

 

“Are you..okay?” Axl can’t keep the concern out of his voice, can’t stop himself from asking.

 

Slash furrows his brows and swallows. “Yeah.” He says, voice harsh. He coughs and tries again. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

 

Axl doesn’t feel convinced but lets it go as Slash pulls his boxers up, then his pants, and finally his shoes. Axl shifts his weight from one leg to the other, unable to explain the restless feeling in his skin as he studies Slash’s movements. All too soon, Slash is standing and stretching, shirt rising to reveal skin. He looks better, like he shook off whatever was clinging to his skin, and Axl feels a hot tightness curl in the pit of his stomach.

 

The door is opened, startling Axl out of his reverie.

 

“Rose, Slash, they want you back on stage.” One of the crew guys says into the room. He’s looking at a clipboard, and suddenly two other men are pushing their way inside. They’re carrying two broken amps, which they drop haphazardly in the corner of the room.

 

“What for?” Axl finds his voice as the two men leave as quickly as they came.

 

“The rest of your guys want to do sound check again.” He says simply. He doesn’t wait for a reply and shuts the door, leaving Axl and Slash alone.

 

Axl feels himself relax, unknowingly tense at the intrusion. He looks at Slash carefully, inspecting him for any sign to show that he feels unwell. Slash looks at him and shrugs.

 

“So…are we gonna go?” Slash asks at Axl’s curious silence.

 

Axl doesn’t want to leave this moment but finds his skin itching to move. “Yeah, let's go.”

 

Slash grabs his sunglasses and dons them, follows Axl out of the room. Axl walks slowly, lost in thought, and blinks downward when he feels Slash grab his hand. He stops and turns to face him, catching Slash by surprise. Axl smiles and presses a kiss against his mouth before squeezing his hand.

 

Later, he promised himself. Axl squeezes Slash’s hand again as they walk down the hallway together and feels familiar heat rise at the thought. Later can’t come soon enough.


End file.
